The War Artist - Steven Kelly

He woke to find himself lying on his back. His head was held immobile in some kind of vice, his jaw braced with a metal clamp attached to his teeth. His torso and limbs were strapped tightly to the cold, hard surface beneath him. He could feel nothing, realised quickly that they had injected his face with a local anaesthetic. He was strangely relieved: there would be no more pain.